I’m Just Not That Into You
By Elizabeth T.
You bought me a few drinks, and I forgot to say thank you. The conversation wasn’t dull. You prematurely shared some skeletons in your closet. I enjoyed talking to you, and I could tell you were enjoying my company.
I knew you wanted to kiss me about 20 minutes into our date — the way you looked at me, the way you listened and the way you laughed at my mediocre jokes — I could just tell. And I wasn’t planning on doing so at the time, but I played you.
I didn’t like your gapped teeth or your millions of tattoos (a few are fine, but a skull and crossbones…are you a pirate?) or the fact that you had been married (I’m 22 and not ready for that drama). You were too hairy for my taste and your hands were barely bigger than mine. You were in the Navy for several years, and to be honest, I’ve never really had a thing for military guys.
I decided early on that I wanted nothing to do with you romantically, but you would suffice for the night. I’m not proud of it and I don’t have any excuses, but I was getting over my ex and had no qualms about sleeping with you and then leaving without so much as a word (I guess that’s what getting dumped will do to you sometimes). I didn’t want to feel anything but an orgasm.
You almost left without kissing me goodbye, and if I hadn’t stopped you with my quizzical look, you might have. You shrugged and said you didn’t want to be too forward. I struck a gaze that made you certain there was no such thing as being “too forward.”
We kissed, and you asked me where I learned to be such a good kisser. I laughed as I told you it just came naturally. I brought you inside; you undressed me with your short sausage fingers that I tried desperately to ignore. As you kissed every inch of me, I decided I hate the feeling of your scruff sliding down my smooth stomach.
Unfortunately for the both of us, when it came time to perform…well, let’s just say you couldn’t. Maybe it was the whiskey, maybe it was the pressure — who knows. You could tell that I was frustrated and wanted to stay the night to cuddle and see if you could maybe get it up in the morning. What a turn-on! Just what every girl wants to hear. I said you could, but changed my mind about 5 seconds into the actual cuddling and asked you to leave. You were hurt, and I’m sorry that I didn’t at least pretend to care.
You asked me what the chances were of us seeing each other again, and I said “50/50”. I lied.
You left angry and texted me on the way home to say that you wished I’d tell you to come back. I didn’t.
The next day, you said you hoped I wasn’t mad and that you wanted to “work through this.” I wasn’t exactly sure how to convey over text everything that I was thinking, but it was along the lines of: “Dude, work through what? I wanted someone for the night, and since you couldn’t do that for me, I asked you to leave. If I had been interested in dating you, I wouldn’t have invited you over to my place on the first date.” This all seemed a bit harsh to say via text, so all I said was, “Okay.”
What’s funny is that I’ve never done this before, and if I had met you two years ago, I probably would have convinced myself that I wanted to date you. But at this point in my life and maybe for the first time ever, I know what I want, and more importantly, what I don’t want. So I’m sorry that you wanted more and that I almost used you, but I can’t be sorry that I’m just not that into you.